


to always forgive me, rather die with me

by corrupted_voracity



Series: my akeshu cooking book [4]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst and Porn, Blow Jobs, Bottom Kurusu Akira, Bottom Persona 5 Protagonist, Dirty Talk, Gunplay, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Possessive Behavior, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Top Akechi Goro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 10:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27469531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corrupted_voracity/pseuds/corrupted_voracity
Summary: But Goro sees something flash inside his cognition’s eyes. Something that’s been sleeping inside of those hollow, lifeless rubies, never able to breach the surface without the proper nudge. It’s the same look the shadows in the Metaverse get in their eyes whenever Joker is negotiating with them.Cognitive Akechi isconsideringJoker’s offer because whatever higher power enables Joker to coax shadows, cognitions,everyoneto do his bidding - it's currently at work.or: Joker manages to slip past the partition wall in the engine room. He strikes a deal.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist, Cognitive Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Cognitive Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Cognitive Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: my akeshu cooking book [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983094
Comments: 18
Kudos: 135





	to always forgive me, rather die with me

**Author's Note:**

> I find cognitive Akechi absurdly hot and I've always wanted a different, worse outcome for the engine room, but please, read the tags for your own sake.
> 
> **This contains serious rape / non-con, so proceed at your own risk! Some gun wounds, but no explicit description.**
> 
> Not beta-read since I just really rushed to get this out of my system haha. I apologize if you find mistakes of any kind.
> 
> Also, I'm aware you can hear people through the partition wall like when Shuake/Akeshu spoke in canon, but here I just went for ignoring it lol.

He’s been-

Goro’s been defeated.

It was humiliating and dehumanizing. Everything Goro had built with his bare hands over years - career, reputation, strength, convictions, all of it the Phantom Thieves began tearing down within only a few minutes, naïve determination burning within most eyes.

They know absolutely _nothing_ of what he’d gone through to maintain the very mask they were sinking their grabby, little fingers in, didn’t understand that the monster beneath it has sunken its fangs into too many victims to ever be something else.

Yet they still offer him some sort of _redemption_ after they’ve seen his worst side, _pitying_ him for his condition after they’ve listened to his sorry excuse for a sob story, connecting the dots they were missing.

The sad look that entered their faces had been so _predictable._

Pathetic.

It was fucking ridiculous and shouldn’t have worked with how Goro dedicated every second of his life for the sole purpose of killing Shido and yet it did.

The entirety of his life lost within _seconds._

He hates Takamaki’s compassion. Hates Sakamoto for his effective bluntness. Hates how Morgana sees more things than he lets on. Hates the empathy Okomura still meets him with. Hates that Nijima has the nerve to compliment him. Hates Sakura’s word of encouragement that blend in disgustingly well with Kitagawa’s calm and collected aura.

Goro doesn’t understand them a bit, and least of all he understands Joker – Ren, who looks at him through his mask with such a warm and gentle expression like Goro never intended to leave him dead in an interrogation room. 

For a feeble, little second Goro really tries to comprehend a different form of acknowledgment he’s been craving for all of his life.

He still doesn’t understand it.

Doesn’t _want_ it because his hands are too dirty and he’ll just stain them, _him,_ and he knows they’re better off without a murderer in their lines. The smallest, loneliest part Goro had locked behind tight smiles and empty eyes for the last years wants nothing more than to embrace what soft, gray eyes promise him in this very moment, but the bigger part that’s still bitter and _wounded_ beyond anyone’s repair screams at him to not be selfish, not now, not steal more of the warmth he doesn’t deserve but received at parts anyway.

To do the _right_ thing for once, as if it could make up for the thousand of sins he committed.

So Goro shoots a cognition with eyes too empty to belong to him, swivels his gun around, shoots the trigger for the bulkhead door.

Watches his fate seal shut with the apathy he wishes he has.

And because Joker has to remind him why Goro loathes him more than the rest, that he always has to be so fucking special and dramatic in every little thing he does, he doesn’t let Goro maintain his last shred of dignity by dying alone in this cold, heartless engine room befitting of his personality.

No.

Joker manages to slide under the closing partition wall in the last second, leaving those stunned idiots behind. The guns from the shadows around Goro immediately set their aim on him, waiting for a command that has yet to come because cognitive Akechi is still composing himself from the shot, but- Goro lets out a hacked laugh at the image that presents itself in front of his eyes.

Joker is fucking _stuck,_ the ends of his tailcoat trapped so tightly he’ll most likely have to rip it off. Pulling at it won’t help.

Heroic and fucking _clumsy,_ it seems.

Goro doesn’t dwell on the smallest bubble of fondness trying to force its way through the dark mist inside of him, and instead concentrates on that exact, wretched part which causes him to choke out a short, ugly giggle due to the absurdity of this entire situation.

His chest flares with pain, a reminder of the earlier battle, so he stops the sound from rattling his throat, collects the meager amount of energy left within him.

“Joker,” Goro hisses with venom dripping off his tongue.

He has half the mind to move the gun he has aimed at his cognition to Joker because now they’ll _both_ die for what they’re worth, but he figures it wouldn’t do so good for the rest of his short-lived reputation if he were to pull the same, horrible thing he subjected Joker to twice.

Then again, isn’t this all for naught anyway?

“Joker, what do you think you’re _doing_?” Or did, because whatever Joker tried achieving by this is now set in stone.

Irreversible.

He couldn’t just let him die here, could he? Had to stick his nose into his business again; steal the notion of a last moment that would belong to _Goro_ from him with those irritating red gloves he more often than not wanted to slip his claws under, graze sensitive palms with the tip of them.

“Saving you,” Joker replies. Goro snarls in response because _of course he’d say that._

Cognitive Akechi is already straightening himself again, but suddenly Goro can’t really pay much attention to that or his own frustration bubbling due to Joker _still_ trying to wriggle his arms free from the confinement of his trapped coat and doesn't he see he that can't-

-oh.

Joker abandons it.

Granted, Goro already knows Joker’s vest underneath doesn’t cover his arms. He always made a point out of not thinking about it, though, which worked surprisingly well despite how many goddamn times pale muscle flashed at him during coy attacks and bold moves.

It’s hard to maintain that when the very imagery that had tempted him too many times (only to follow him into his dreams) is now in all its sinewy and slim and _toned_ glory in front of him.

Goro really wants to bite into the tantalizing flesh and see if Joker bleeds just like him.

He reminds himself that there are more important matters at hand, such as cognitive Akechi mirroring the position of Goro’s gun arm. The weaponry from the two shadows that spawned around them are aimed at Joker, too, who stands in some distance away from Goro, looking as unfazed as he could without the heaviness of his cloak protecting him.

Somehow, he looks incredibly vulnerable in a way that doesn’t have to do with the small wounds littering his arms, exhaustion bleeding into worn eyes.

God, what was the _point_ of Goro sacrificing himself for the Phantom Thieves (meaning just Joker) when he does it himself?

“Look at the trash the tide brought,” cognitive Akechi murmurs.

His gun may be aimed at Goro, but his eyes are trained on Joker, cold and relentless. Piercing and yet so dull.

He looks surprisingly well despite having been shot just recently, and a quick turn of Goro's head confirms the two dogs from earlier are missing. Cognitive Akechi must have absorbed them at an earlier point - an annoying ability.

“The noble leader of the Phantom Thieves gracing us with his presents. Are you here to watch the puppet die?”

“I’m here to prevent just that,” Joker says, calmly, as he lifts his hands up to show he means no harm.

The gun is probably still in his coat. Which is probably abandoned in some distance behind him. 

Goro wheezes. Grips his own head to stabilize the throbbing headache of still having to stand when he wants nothing else but to fucking die already so he doesn’t have to live through this bullshit any longer.

“Must you always,” Goro lowly growls, voice shaking with resentment, claws digging into his hair, “ _ruin_ everything? I triggered the wall because I wanted to do _one_ fucking thing in my right life. But you can’t even let me have _that_ because you stormed after me like the complete idiot you are! Even with my death you have to involve yourself with!”

Goro still doesn’t feel _special_ in any sort like the precious leader of the Phantom Thieves. This, though – cognitive Akechi confirming every lurking fear he once had in his mind, banished into his subconscious because surely Shido would trust him – was something he’d wanted to do _alone._

He made the partition wall slam shut so Joker doesn’t have to see how pathetic Goro is, how he actually doesn’t want to die because of a mere fucking puppet.

That, in hindsight, he regrets… not _all,_ but some things, wishes the circumstances would have been different, that parts would have fallen into a different order instead of how they are arranged now.

“Crow,” Joker tentatively says, and maybe he’s eyeing him from his line of vision, but Goro can’t be sure, not with that white mask on his face. His voice sounds strangely thin, too. Stripped off its layers, like he wasn’t the only one who bared themselves in the earlier fight. “I’m sorry, but I-”

“Stop talking.”

Goro feels the pain only when he’s bumping against the partition wall behind him, sliding down.

His gun is lying somewhere out of his reach now, Joker is screaming and twitching and then not moving again due to something, but Goro can’t concentrate because there’s a fucking hole in his lower stomach and he’s going to drag his cognition to all cycles of hell while tearing of his limbs only to attach them and repeat the progress all over again because what the fuck.

He really wishes he could summon Loki right now, but his grasp on the persona is thin and barely existent with how his ears _ring._

“Crow!”

Clenching his teeth and hoping the bullet didn’t hit any vital organs, Goro lifts up his head. Joker is closer now, but frozen in a running position because now cognitive Akechi’s gun is grinning into that very direction, successfully locking Joker in his current position.

“Move and I won't miss a second time,” cognitive Akechi says with sterile flatness.

Gun still trained on Joker.

The tight material of red gloves clench.

Cognitive Akechi looks at Joker, then to Goro, and then back to Joker again. Goro wishes his cognition can at least _feel_ how badly he wants to rip his eyes out just by the glare he’s sending him alone.

“You’re not here to watch him die,” cognitive Akechi says to Joker.

He then tilts his head in an eerie way that makes him look even more of a mechanical cognition than he already is. “That means… you’re here to trade places?”

Coldness wraps around Goro’s heart in an instant, momentarily blending out the throbbing sensation of blood seeping through the wound on his stomach.

“No,” Goro nearly shouts, and doesn’t care that a hint of desperation slipped into his voice when Joker’s head refuses to turn around to him, confirming what cognitive Akechi just said. He’s already at his lowest, anyway.

“Joker! Do you hear a word of what you’re fucking saying? Leave!”

It doesn’t matter that Joker _can’t_ with all the weapons aimed at him and the bulkhead completely closed off, but Goro can’t scream into his face how he does _not_ want to see Joker die a second time in front of him.

Anything but that.

Goro’s face twists in pain as he manages to push himself a little of the wall with one hand, but the blood gushing out from the wound prevents further movement. All of his plans, even the ones formed out of the heat of the moment trickle through his hurting hands like endless amount of sand. 

“Crow,” Joker says, almost softly. It pierces through him like a knife. Goro refuses to look. “Allow me to have at least that.”

And maybe these words, the implications Goro could surely unravel if he tries to, hurt more than any rejection would have.

Cognitive Akechi makes a noise that sounds like a dead attempt at a laugh, and the otherwise horrid sound makes wretched hope bloom in Goro’s chest – his cognition won’t comply with Joker’s request.

His mission is to see _Goro_ dead, and maybe Joker will follow afterwards and that knowledge freezes his limbs again, but at least he won’t have to _watch_ and live through the nightmare a second time.

Joker flinches. He really does look _less_ without the heaviness of his coat. “Please. I will offer myself. You said one of us can do so, right?”

“He’ll kill you first and then me!” Goro shouts, exasperated and still in disbelief over how _uselessly stubborn_ Joker is. “There’s is absolutely no point in doing this! Joker! Fucking listen to me for _once_ in your goddamn life!”

“He’s right, you know?” the cognition says, jerking his head into Goro’s direction. “Shido wants _you_ dead, too, but his little puppet is a priority now. You’re just getting in the way of my mission.”

As he’s saying that, he turns his gun to Goro. Who smiles under the broken edges of his mask despite the fear claiming him. It’s nothing compared to the relief flooding his body, making his head throb less, screams of his personas inside him fade into static noise.

Maybe Joker will really get away for some god-forsaken reason – if anyone can get out of this situation, Goro is sure that _he_ would be capable of it.

But Joker takes a step forward, and the maw of the weapon surges back to him in an obvious warning.

“What didn’t you understand about not moving?”

“ _Please,_ ” Joker mutters. Goro never knew a single word could contain so many emotions of the wrong kind he doesn’t deserve. Not in the slightest.

He wonders when Joker will ever realize that.

Even if he were to avert his eyes, Goro isn’t able to tune the fragility of his voice out.

“Please. I’ll do anything. Just- don’t kill him now. What do you want from me? I can- I can try. I can try for you.”

He’s prolonging the inevitable, Goro numbly thinks.

Has half a mind to tell him so due to the sheer amount of spite surfacing once again, maybe pull cognitive Akechi’s aggression back to him so he can finally put a bullet through _his_ head. Surely everybody must be growing tired of this.

But Goro sees something flash inside his cognition’s eyes. Something that’s been sleeping inside of those hollow, lifeless rubies, never able to breach the surface without the proper nudge. It’s the same look the shadows in the Metaverse get in their eyes whenever Joker is negotiating with them.

Cognitive Akechi is _considering_ Joker’s offer because whatever higher power enables Joker to coax shadows, cognitions, _everyone_ to do his bidding - it's currently at work.

Goro’s heart plummets into abyssal depths. Cognitive Akechi's finger slowly moves away from the trigger. The two guards disappear in a flash of black, but there is little doubt they and many more can be summoned at any given point in time.

“Come here,” cognitive Akechi says, voice barely above a murmur. Mildly intrigued. _Something_ _new_ shining in his eyes that hasn't been there before; the rest of his appearance picture-perfect.

Even injured and exhausted, Joker still manages to walk with some sort of grace as he slowly does as he’s told. It makes Goro feel all sort of _envious_ again, that when Joker’s at his worst he’s still so fucking beautiful that it _pains_ him while Goro is left to bleed out, unable to save the only person he’d ever wanted to save aside from his mother.

An ugly heart laid bare, as Nijima called it earlier.

A complete fucking failure.

“On your knees.”

Goro has already thought about this scenario, because he thinks _everything_ through (but never managed to see the sadness in Joker’s coy smiles, ignored them for both of their sake). It’s entirely different when seeing Joker complying obediently.

 _Joker_ , who dances to his own rhythm exclusively, never bending to another’s will.

Goro wishes he could see Joker’s face, and at the same time he doesn’t.

The cognition wearing _his_ face with an unreadable expression is unbuckling _his_ belt with a _clumsy_ right hand because Shido never noticed he was ambidextrous, pulling out _his_ soft cock that’s-

-fucking monstrous.

Goro doesn’t know what to feel – agony due to him still pressing his gauntlet (doesn’t make it much better) to his wound, mortification at seeing what’s supposedly _his_ cock in such a ridiculous size that he doesn’t even feel bad he’s not nearly as large, or absolute rage because this means Shido thinks _everyone_ working under him must be hung by default because Shido and his stupidly astronomical ego is, too.

He chooses blinding fury due to it being the easiest option.

“Joker,” Goro screams. He’ll make up for his blood loss by pulling out cognitive Akechi’s insides and rearranging them. “Fucking don’t! Whatever you do, get away from him!”

Goro doesn’t know _how_ he’ll do it, incapacitated, pain crippling his every movement, but he’ll tear his cognitive Akechi to absolutely fucking _shreds_ that the whole engine room will be painted in red only. 

Joker doesn’t even spare Goro a glance as he’s leaning in, nuzzling his cheek into the soft cock, the gesture juxtaposing the entirely dooming atmosphere.

It’s freezing, and Goro doesn’t know if it’s because he’s slowly starting to die, or if it’s because the sight of Joker on his knees prevents his blood from circulating.

“What are you waiting for?” cognitive Akechi softly murmurs, but he lowers his gun a little, clearly knowing Joker will follow any order for him if it meant prolonging Goro’s death just a little longer.

And it’s not like Goro can move much without exhilarating pain cursing through his body. Doesn't hinder him from _trying._

“I heard that this is something a lot of people do when they’re interested in someone. Are you interested in me, Joker?“ He smiles. “Of course you are, what a silly question. You wouldn't have offered in the first place, then. Want to save him? Then go on, entertain me. Show me you’re worth every single second I’m currently using to delay Shido’s orders.”

During all of that, cognitive Akechi’s finger threaded through Joker’s hair. A mockingly soft gesture, _lovingly_ almost, if not for the dark expression adoring the cognition's face. And when Joker begins to open his mouth, slowly darting a tongue across the offered flesh, that very darkness morphs into something that reaches deeper into the red until it's something Goro always sees if he comes face to face with his own reflection after a kill.

At first, his cognition doesn’t appear overly affected, maintaining a lax expression as Joker takes the tip into his mouth, pulling out to swirl his tongue in languid motions around it before taking everything back inside again. The corner of cognitive Akechi’s mouth lifts a little the moment Joker starts having trouble taking the length in deeper.

Goro sees Joker digging his fingers into the material of his pants, clenching it with a desperation that doesn’t show in the rest of his body except from the occasional, filthy sound that bounces off the naked walls.

Then the cognition starts thrusting. Slowly, at first, seemingly testing the waters in _tentative_ movements, what he could coax out of Joker if he angles his hips a little further inside, if he lets him lap at the front part only to fill out the depths again.

Cognitive Akechi’s lips fully curl upwards, and it’s the only warning Joker and Goro get before he suddenly just _pushes and pushes and pushes,_ keeping a tight grip on Joker’s hair to hold him in place as he mercilessly shoves the rest of his length in, the base of his cock disappearing around lips stretched to the brim.

And despite the abhorrence of the situation, how a cognition wearing Goro’s face is in the process of choking the life out of Joker with his fucking cock, there’s blood rushing down towards Goro’s groin at the gurgled, filthy gasp Joker lets out, distorted to nearly unrecognizable edges due to the cock in his mouth.

Choking noises follow immediately, accompanied with the hypnotizing sight of a pale throat just _bulging_ out of its natural state _,_ trying to accommodate to the intrusion that goes far deeper than what should be possible.

Goro digs his claws into the wound he’s trying to compress. The pain is a welcome distraction to remind him that this is absolutely nothing he should get aroused by, not in the slightest, that there is no fire starting to burn in his lower regions, telling him that he should look a little more, imagine himself in that position because surely it would be easy if they shared the same face and all?

Goro should get his pitiful self together, stand up, maybe summon a persona if he can do that. All he does is watch though, following the trail of one, two, three tears that fall down pushed out cheeks, and yet he’s not even able to do that because it’s hard to focus on one spot when cognitive Akechi is yanking Joker back and forth so ruthlessly, brutally shoving his cock into the deepest parts of a fluttering throat each time he drives his hips forward.

“This is certainly better than expected,” cognitive Akechi says, slightly out of breath as he continues abusing Joker’s mouth like it's a mere toy for his own pleasure. “How do describe this? This exquisite heat clinging to my cock. The sight of teary, wide eyes, starring into mine with such a pleading expression.” He chuckles. “Beautiful.”

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Goro growls, tries to push himself off the wall, and abruptly stills when his cognition simply lifts his gun again without sparing him a glance.

“If you move,” cognitive Akechi says, tasting each word in his mouth like it’s a favorite dish he just found out about, “I’ll blow _his_ pretty head off.”

Goro hates every little thing in this situation. The fact his cognition plays all the cards in this game, how he himself is utterly pitiful and close to being fully hard, wounds _still_ bleeding (he should have run out of blood by this point, but maybe it’s some Metaverse magic that enables him to live longer because gun wounds aren’t usually the way you die here), Joker still so fucking beautiful even as his mouth is getting destroyed, pride willingly thrown away the moment he dove under the partition wall.

 _Still_ amazing, because Joker doesn’t make a sound himself aside from hacked inhales of breath through his nose, merely digging his fingers into the material of cognitive Akechi’s pants to steady himself. The muscle of his arms strain. Joker tries to keep the little dignity he has left to himself in the way he stays somewhat composed, and Goro honestly doesn’t know how Joker is _still_ able to take such a length inside his throat without having run out of air yet.

Cognitive Akechi’s face twitches. Maybe a sign of his approaching climax, Goro thinks with nothing but disgust. The thought of a mere cognition emptying himself in Joker’s throat is enough for some bile to collect in his throat, which in turn lowers the heat coiling in his own stomach.

_Good._

“I- _mhm_ , I could get used to this,” cognitive Akechi pants. Then grins; a horrible, gut-wrenching parody of a smile, before yanking Joker away from his cock in one, fluent motion, roughly shoving him backwards onto the ground. Tremors Goro recognizes as coughing fits wreck Joker’s body momentarily as he tries his best to keep those sounds from escaping his lips.

“…ahh, that’s what’s been bothering me," cognitive Akechi murmurs.

With a neutral expression on his face that’s a stark contrast from the previous onslaught of taunting smiles, cognitive Akechi winds one leg up and kicks Joker onto his stomach.

“You’ve been too _quiet._ ”

Joker _still_ doesn’t make a sound, and Goro prevents an outraged cry of his own from leaving his lips as cognitive Akechi crouches down behind him. The cognition doesn’t waste any time – for how long he used Joker’s mouth to explore the meanings of pleasure for himself only, he spends only a few seconds ripping the lower part of Joker’s vest open, pulling down his pants and underwear next.

Joker’s head isn’t really facing Goro’s direction, but he knows that Joker is _not_ okay just because he keeps the painful moan he sees jumping inside of his throat from escaping the second cognitive Akechi pushes a finger into him. The cognition uses the hand holding his gun to push Joker a little towards himself, and his eyes are transfixed on what he’s doing - experimentally, clinically, _curious._

Goro wants-

Goro has wanted a lot of things in life and has never truly gotten them due to how _much_ he wanted, but in this moment he wishes he could just do a little.

To at least let his bloody gauntlets gently wipe among the edges of the face twisted in unspoken amounts of pain, reassuring Joker gently that it’s going to be ok even though it won’t, that he should focus on Goro’s touch and voice only despite suffering under the lie of the exact same hands.

Cognitive Akechi is looking more and more displeased by the second. “You’ve been so vocal in battle,” he growls, eyes strangely ablaze as they stare into Joker’s head. So much more alive than before.

There’s no finesse in the way he pushes a second finger in, roughly dragging it in and out in uneven intervals. It’s not preparation, Goro knows. With an almost hungry expression in his eyes, cognitive Akechi studies what the body underneath him responds to, trying to elicit more than just the few twitches and grunts that leave it.

“You and your friends had such a memorable speech ready for your dear Goro. Where did all of that bravado go, hm? _Joker_?”

He accentuates the last word by adding a third finger. Goro sees Joker biting his lips bloody. How his hands scrape along the floor, trying to find purchase where there is none.

Joker looks mere seconds away from exploding, from releasing the most guttural cry out of the depths of his body, and yet he still refuses to show or let cognitive Akechi hear anything other than sharp intakes of breaths.

Goro hates him for it because it’s just making him love Joker _more,_ the fact that he’s not giving up, even though he was so fucking stupid by agreeing to this in the first place, doing _something_ to Shido’s cognition that enabled Joker to worm his existence inside of cognitive Akechi’s head where it sits like a parasite, leeching away thoughts reserved for Goro.

Joker is doing this for- for _him,_ abandoned the same teammates Goro ridiculed him for, and all Goro does is getting fucking hard again at the sight of Joker’s body writhing on the floor in jerking, hypnotizing motions, face full with tears.

He’s disgusted with himself even more than he already is, and it just confirms that he would have _never_ deserved Joker in any way, no matter how pleadingly those eyes looked at him from time to time.

The words leave Goro’s own mouth before he can stop them.

“You could-”

He coughs. His throat feels unbelievably dry, but it doesn’t hinder him from sending another death glare into his cognition way. The hate _burns_ inside of him, much more than the pain could ever hope to ignite.

“You’re not _worthy._ You could _never_ make him feel even remotely good with the filth clinging to your hands.”

And neither can he himself, Goro knows. All he would have ever done is taint Joker – and knowing him, the other would have maybe accepted it at some point if Goro just talked long enough, promising everything he couldn’t give.

But the path Goro had forged himself isn’t one that could be shared, and neither is it one that belonged to Joker.

Goro doesn’t know what suddenly feels more off about the current situation than usual until he notices that any noise stopped. Cognitive Akechi has pulled his fingers out, looks at Goro with half-lidded, inquisitive eyes, then snaps those once dead pupils back to Joker’s shaking, but defiant body.

“...Good, you say? Make him enjoy it?” He directs his gaze to Goro again. Something unreadable flashes in his face as cognitive Goro trains his gun on him, but he’s not aiming at his heart or head, so where-?

“Ahh, was that my mistake? How foolish of me.”

Loki bursts forth the same instance cognitive Akechi fires. Pulled from the depths of somewhere Goro doesn’t want to go back again, his most trusted persona takes the bullet without a complaint, already driving it sword down.

_“Akechi!”_

Goro barely registers the raw scream coming from somewhere left of him, because he’s standing on two shaky legs, about to send an all-consuming Eigaon his cognition’s way to just fucking _obliterate_ him to death which is just about the most important thing in this predicament.

But for all the power he just managed to coax out of nowhere, Loki is nearly not as fast as he’s used to, and his cognition, still full at power, fully charged, dodges Loki’s Laevatein and shoots Goro to disrupt the casting of his curse spell. The shot misses, but the second, _third_ shot of suddenly materialized shadows around him don’t, and the bullets eat into the flesh of his legs.

Strong, rebellious Loki, who had been seconds away from beheading cognitive Akechi flickers away into sparks of black and red, just as quick as he was summoned.

Goro vaguely registers himself collapsing backwards again.

Back into the wall, back into the same spot as before, just more powerless with a crying Joker and an enraged cognition and two holes in both of his thigh. And Goro laughs, even as he coughs up blood, because _he just can’t have nice things in his life, can he?_

At least his black mask outfit hadn’t flickered away, or else he would truly be indistinguishable from the other monster currently staring him down with cold fury.

Goro honestly expects to die right here. If not for the blood loss, his cognition would surely pull the trigger now because he _pissed_ him off, and that thought alone soothes some of Goro’s fogged mind, along with the knowledge that this can finally end, that he doesn’t have to drown in his own guilt anymore.

The last shot never comes, and perhaps the way cognitive Akechi’s ugly, _twisted_ visage relaxes into a soft, gentle one is the closest Goro has ever come to truly tasting fear. This is- this isn’t _natural._ Goro doesn’t know what kind of monster Joker lured out with his negotiation, but this is beyond all the horrors he faced in the Metaverse.

“No,” the cognition says. “You’re going to _watch_ every single second of me taking away what’s most precious to you.”

Cognitive Akechi calmly walks towards Joker, who is still immobile, looking at Goro with such big eyes like he can’t believe what he saw or heard.

Goro wants to insult him for not using Arsene – he’s sure Joker has _some_ powers left, but then again he’s also sure Joker won’t fucking risk it if cognitive Akechi is the only one able to revive dead people in this room, and if Goro were to somehow get hit in the crossfire, not to mention how cognitive Akechi is able to summon several shadows-

If Goro thought he was stripped bare earlier after the fight, this is akin to his very skin peeling off, blood draining, pulsating muscle giving away to showcase fragile bones to break.

He sees cognitive Akechi sitting down on the bare, iron floor.

Pulling Joker into his lap.

Such an out of place, intimate gesture must have broken Joker out of his stupor, because he’s nearly bolting towards Goro the moment he feels arms entrapping him, but cognitive Akechi is faster, grips his throat instead with one, still gloved hand.

That move alone forces Joker back against the cognition.

The gun raises again, but Goro is too transfixed on the tears clearly flowing down Joker’s face that he only vaguely registers it. Goro really, really wants to wipe them away, but he’d probably make Joker’s face ugly with how much blood there’s now on his hands.

“The puppet will die, no matter how you look at it.” Cognitive Akechi noses along the very throat he’s squeezing, almost tentatively licking at the skin a little before he smiles into it.

Mockingly eyeing Goro over Joker’s shoulder.

“But Shido knows about some of my powers. How I can revive a person from the dead if they haven’t been dead for too long. And we wouldn’t want your precious Goro to rot away long enough so that even a Samarecarm won’t revive him, don’t we?”

Goro should have - _fuck,_ he should have _never_ told Shido about Loki, about Robin Hood, how goddamn naïve had he been-

“P-please,” Joker manages to choke out, still not pleading for _his_ life. Cognitive Akechi groans lowly, as if the little plead stirred something inside of him. He brushes his lips against Joker's ears.

“That’s much better. I didn’t expect to find you this enticing, but I admit seeing you this helpless under my very touch is… eye opening. Scandalously tempting.” He laughs, cold and practiced. Cognitive Akechi dips the nose of his gun under Joker’s vest, dragging it across shivering skin. Joker squirms in his lap, which only serves to worsen the grip on his throat. “The way you try your best to resist me. Knowing it’s utterly hopeless, yet still burning brightly in the most wonderful ways… no wonder why he was so infatuated with you. I'm learning a lot through this.”

Cognitive Akechi drops his gun, most likely for the moment only. Summons another shadow that has one trained on Goro. He thinks it’s useless, especially because there are two other ones that are already in a position to shoot him again, but surely Goro must already be in some sort of delusional state if he sees tentative, gloved fingers removing the mask that makes Ren Joker.

“I will go against Shido’s orders to let your Goro go,” Cognitive Akechi chuckles. Now that Joker’s – no, without his coat, without his gun and mask it’s just _Ren’s –_ face is bare, the cognition can freely caress the blotchy, red planes of it, leaving Goro to admire how strongly the color stands out against his otherwise pale skin.

Goro has never seen _Ren_ in the Metaverse.

“Let’s make a deal, Joker,” the cognition whispers into Ren’s ear. Tiny hiccup shatter the thieves body. His tears are pretty, Goro thinks. So much prettier than anything he’s ever seen. Large and crystal-clear, spilling over the edge with such compassion, such empathy that he’s almost jealous for a reason he can’t place.

Cognitive Akechi continues to map out Ren’s face with one finger, then grabs his chin softly. Turning it away from Goro towards himself that Ren has no other choice but to lock their gazes.

Cognitive Akechi leans in. Breathes against chapped lips.

“I’ll let him go if you become mine.”

And Ren-

-doesn't hesitate for even a second.

He hiccups once, nods, and closes the minimal distance between them, which causes the fingers around his throat to finally let go, sliding to his neck instead to angle his head better.

Goro’s glad his vision is already getting just a little blurrier.

If he were fully conscious, fully responsive and receptive to the image of Ren having shed his mask to kiss his cognition, he thinks he would have lost the last parts of his sanity. But all he feels now is numb acceptance that chills the very inside of his mind. He could have dealt with his cognition _fucking_ Ren maybe, at some fucked up points in his life years into the future if he’s still alive by then after so much therapy that he’d be most likely at his tenth doctor by then, but seeing cognitive Akechi _kissing_ Ren is so much worse than he could have ever anticipated. 

Cognitive Akechi is not even doing it smoothly, _tenderly_ like Goro would have loved to do countless of times whenever he saw Ren giving him those irritatingly smug smirks over the counter in Leblanc.

No, his cognition is _ravishing_ Ren, biting at his lips and tongue, prying his mouth open like he wants to devour all of him.

Ren’s arms fly towards the other’s shoulders, but at this point it’s hard to tell whether he steadies himself in the face of such assault or tries to push cognitive Akechi off. Ren’s indignant cries suddenly break of into a half-moan, and the sound snaps Goro’s gaze to search for the _reason_ to see that cognitive Akechi has opted to cup Ren's still exposed ass with both of his hands.

Hands that belong to Goro.

“That was a new sound,” cognitive Akechi growls into Ren’s mouth, a strained and surprise tone in his voice. He doesn’t even need a hand to angle Ren’s face towards his because Ren yields heart achingly easily the more his cognition presses his mouth onto the other's, all while gloved hands continue to grab.

“More. I want to learn _more._ ”

Goro expressionlessly watches as his cognition feels Ren up.

Spending a little more time on kneading his bottom, then brushing against a tailbone before he just impatiently rips the remains of Ren’s vest off, exposing a taut, beautiful back.

Has- has Ren’s waist always been this small, so easy to grip like cognitive Akechi is doing right now? Hands slotting so perfectly over the gentle dip like it was made to be hold and caressed? Goro's never seen it before, but now it's just painfully clear with all of his skin bared like that.

One of Goro’s fingers twitch, momentarily pressing the claw deeper into a wound, and their forms get blurry for a second.

“Such a delicate body under all this fancy getup,” cognitive Akechi mumbles. He’s moved on to latching himself onto Ren’s neck, most likely trying to find the spot that would make the body in his lap squirm by methodically working himself across the skin. A machine that searches for the weak spots of its victim.

“You’re really someone else without your mask, hmm?”

“P-please,” Ren stutters, gasping when cognitive Akechi firmly bites into the side of his throat. “Just- Do it, but please don’t- _ahh_ , talk-” He only receives a cold laugh as a response. “Because his and my voice are the same? Do I remind you of him? Oh, I can assure you we're absolutelydifferent, Ren. I can call you Ren, right? Now that you’re mine. Let me demonstrate.”

It’s not a surprise, Goro thinks. Shido does know he goes bouldering, so it’s no wonder cognitive Akechi lifts Ren up without too much of a problem, turning him around so that Ren is still straddling the cognition’s lap, but facing the other direction now.

(His.)

Cognitive Akechi props his chin on Ren’s shoulder, looking Goro straight into the eyes with an expression that couldn’t have been more pleased.

Some strands cling to the cognition's forehead in a similar manner to how Goro's hair behaves after he's gone through a light warm-up session. 

“ _He_ isn’t the one to make you feel good,” cognitive Akechi taunts the both of them by referring to what Goro said earlier.

Goro’s eyes follow the movement of gloves he knows too well that lightly caress two, pink nubs. Ren lets out a tiny mewl, but it only causes the fingers to squeeze harder now that they’ve found a rather interesting spot.

“ _I’m_ the one to do that. _I’ll_ completely ruin you for everyone else, now that you’ve awaken this insatiable… _need_ inside of me.”

The cognition continues fondling Ren’s chest. He’s a quick learner, Goro dully notes, finding out Ren practically trashes in his hold whenever he pulls them harshly after pressing them into his skin for some teasing seconds. Scraping at the hard nubs earns him a choked whine, circling them between a finger and his thumb gives way for a shiver that rakes through Ren’s whole body, curving it prettily. 

“ _He_ has missed all his of his chances in his miserable life, but that doesn’t mean you did.” Cognitive Akechi bites into the same spot on Ren’s throat from before, making the bruise darken even more. “I’ll give you a new future at my side. Sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? We can learn so much from each other.”

And Ren visibly tries holding all the sound in. It was easy before, Goro thinks, when he could concentrate on the pain inflicted on him, on the harsh, mechanical ways cognitive Akechi touched him with. Now he’s subjected to cursed pleasure, scraping away at what little is left of his rebellion.

Goro doesn’t know he let out a mix between a growl and a pained groan until the moment he’s met with Ren eyes, the sound having forced his attention on him. Reminding him that Goro is still dying the most pathetic death mankind has seen.

With his mask gone, Goro is able to see how countless of shed and unshed tears glisten on Ren's bottom eyelashes. So long he can see them from _this_ distance.

His cheeks are painted a color Goro would have found pretty some other time, his eyes large, horrified, but undoubtedly _shining_ with something new. Reflecting whatever powerful emotion currently flowing through them, Goro thinks it might not be to bad, bleeding out with the little attention of Ren he can get for himself.

“Don’t look at trash,” cognitive Akechi suddenly hisses, releasing one nipple to roughly grab Ren’s chin again. His eyes gain a dangerous glint. “Here, I’ll give you something to _occupy_ yourself.”

Out of nowhere cognitive Akechi has a gun in his hands again, and in the next second, he’s shoving it inside Ren’s mouth with unrelenting force. Ren’s arms immediately fly up to grab the hand pushing the nuzzle in deeper, uncaring of the slightly awkward angle, but cognitive Akechi simply grabs his throat again as a warning.

“Be a good boy and behave. You wouldn’t want to upset the person whom you belong to now, would you? What if I accidentally pull the trigger? Then again, I could just revive you, anyway.”

Ren makes desperate sounds, still so clear despite being muffled. The tears flow rapidly, more than before. Goro sees cognitive Akechi lapping some of them up with his tongue, grinning against Ren’s ear after he’s licked a fat stripe over a red cheek.

“Tears suit you wonderfully. And this-” cognitive Akechi stops the thrusting of his hand, and then rams the gun in so hard that it forces Ren to tilt his head back, eyes wide open, choking so much more on the deadly metal inside of his mouth than he did with the cognition’s cock, “- _th_ _ese_ _are_ the sounds I wanted to hear. Pain truly is delivered best with pleasure. I must thank you for telling me so.”

The last part cognitive Akechi says towards Goro, but he doesn’t think he can react much anymore. His fingertips are starting to feel cold, and it’s slowly, but steadily working itself throughout the rest of his system.

Goro welcomes it – he doesn’t want to watch his own face putting Ren so obscenely on display, thrusting a weapon in an outside of his mouth while keeping a tight grip on his throat and _grinding_ against his bottom, but at the same time Goro just _can’t_ look away as well.

“You’re taking it so wonderfully. Do this often?” Cognitive Akechi chuckles again, finally pulling the gun out.

Strands of saliva cling to it, and Ren makes a series of coughing noises he can’t hide this time.

The cognition behind him is flexing his fingers around Ren’s convulsing throat, caressing the strained motions, as if he’s fascinated by the reaction he caused. He snaps out of his short daze in the next moment, sending Goro a telling look.

“Oh, I forgot. He was probably too much of a coward to put his hands on you. More for me, then.”

Cognitive Akechi shoves Ren off his lap. He lands on the floor in a similar fashion like earlier, splayed on his stomach, still recovering from how cognitive Akechi forced a gun past his teeth and tongue.

“A-Akechi, wait-”

_“Wait?”_

Ren doesn’t want this.

Tries to get up on all fours, but cognitive Akechi simply puts a hand on his lower back and _presses_ so that Ren collapses again, like a house of cards.

“I’ve waited all my life to kill _him._ Now that I suddenly won’t do it anymore, I should get thoroughly compensated for it. I’m stretching Shido’s _orders_ for you. Such an ungrateful pet that I have.”

Ren makes a _sound_ when there’s a squelching noise, and then _screams._ Screams so loud Goro feels it vibrating in his head, just like cognitive Akechi’s chest vibrates with a dark chuckle as he pushes the sleek, metal tip of his gun even further into Ren’s hole. “That's better. Such a beautiful voice, suited for screaming _my_ name later on.”

Goro _can’t_ fathom how he’s still alive with all that happened.

Then again, his sense of time might be completely warped at this point. Cognitive Akechi could have been fucking Ren with his gun for only ten seconds, or he could have gone at it for an entire hour. Either way, Ren is a complete mess, mouth gaping open in silent wails he now can’t even get out, the red fabric of his gloves slightly shredded with how much he’s been clawing at the floor to find _something_ that would help him get through the pain of having his still dry hole forced open with an inanimate, heartless object.

And Ren’s eyes are full of agony and _fear._ Where his rebellion had once shined, resilient resolve and tenacity fighting against all of this, adamant on keeping him _and_ Goro alive, fear is now quickly erasing all of that.

Cognitive Akechi’s hands are nowhere near the trigger, but it doesn’t alleviate the gut-wrenching heaviness, the _absurdity_ of the situation in the slightest.

Goro doesn’t know how much time passes. The obscene sounds is all that he registers, along with the cruelest of all canvas coming to life before him. And in midst of the drag of steel against heated flesh, clothes scrubbing against the floor, Ren suddenly _moans._ The sound freezes the remaining blood in Goro’s body, just like it suddenly gets the cognition to still. “Oh, what was that? Are you _enjoying_ yourself, Ren?”

Ren’s face is pure mortification. He’s biting his lips so hard that droplets fly around as he shakes his head rapidly, weakly groaning. Trying to get away again, but not having the energy to do so anymore.

“N-no-”

“Please,” the cognition interrupts him with a look so hungry on his face that it easily overshadows his earlier expressions. “I have so much to _learn._ Won’t you teach me what you like?” Ren brokenly whimpers. Doesn’t say anything. Cognitive Akechi’s face falls a bit, then the corners of his mouth coyly curl.

“Oh, that’s alright. I’ll find out myself. And I just know where to start to make this a little more fun for all of us, hmm?”

Cognitive Akechi picks Ren up like a rag-doll, hoists him into the air. Goro doesn’t think he’s capable of feeling much more than the iciness throughout the whole body, having begun to simply take in the scenes with something close to apathy since it _hurts_ processing the visual input he gets any more than on a superficial level.

His cognition quickly proves him wrong the second he drops Ren in front of him, so close that Goro is able to make out the pearls of sweat clinging to Ren’s nape.

The faint whiff of cinnamon and coffee and blood.

Horror bleeds through Goro’s mind at the sight of Ren kneeling between his spread out legs (which are _useless_ even though the bullets hit his thighs instead of his knees), the sensation sharp and gritty, making some left-over energy spill forth that Goro grabs with newfound desperation.

“What- what are you _doing_ -” he croaks out, unable to properly convert all the fury he feels slowly awakening inside of himself again. Goro feels like he’s mere breaths away from closing his eyes for an eternity. It doesn’t stop him from re-igniting what little is left of him _-_ infinite hate for his cognition because is it really going to fucking involve _Goro_ in this fucked up nightmare?

Cognitive Akechi ignores him and settles behind Ren, who is still between Goro’s spread out legs.

Ren looks up at him through teary eyes, braced on his elbows. So impossibly close, and yet he’s never felt more out of his reach.

“G-Goro,” Ren whimpers. “I’m- I’m sorry.”

Behind Ren, cognitive Akechi gains the most abhorrent grin. It distorts his face to incomprehensible levels of wrongness that Goro wouldn’t be able to erase it from existence even if he drags his saber across it.

“You’re mine now. Do well to remember your place.”

And it’s nothing but obscene, the way cognitive Akechi forces his length inside the second the last word leaves his mouth. Ren’s eyes keep getting wider and wider, staring _through_ Goro’s eyes now, his pupils shrinking and cognitive Akechi is _still pushing in, gripping his hips, ripping Ren’s hole open._

“Ahh- you feel absolutely perfect, Ren.” Then cognitive Akechi starts thrusting. Driving his hips back and forth, immediately setting a tempo that seems to nudge Ren even further into Goro's space with every push. Ren, whose mouth is open in a silent scream, eyes rolled upwards from the excruciating pain only choked, airy and irregular gasps tell. Tremors wreck Ren’s body completely, making him shiver and convulse, and Goro doesn’t want to look down, but he does – even from this angle, he can see Ren’s stomach _bulging._

Goro wants to rip off his own dick for twitching at the sight, for accumulating the last drops of blood that haven’t drizzled onto the floor to slowly grow hard again. It doesn’t matter that Ren isn’t crying, because Goro does it for him instead.

“Do you wish you were me?” Cognitive Akechi pants, laughing as he runs a hand over one of Ren’s globes, lovingly squeezing the flesh. “Do you wish you were me, fucking into this heat that clings to me as if it doesn’t want to let go? Oh, what a silly question. Of _course_ you do.”

He doesn’t. Goro doesn’t want to destroy Ren like his cognition does right now, ruining his insides, reducing Ren to such a fragile, whimpering _mess_ that he can’t believe this is the same person that he’d been fighting hours, days, years ago.

“G-Goro, Gorooo-” Ren cries, sobs, and Goro is unable to discern if Ren is calling for him or his cognition. “That’s right,” cognitive Akechi grins wildly. “Call _my_ name.”

“...R-Ren,” Goro hoarsely calls, so low that he doesn’t know if Ren heard him.

The sound of skin slapping against skin, of Ren’s groans that continue to gain air and room is more penetrative than anything else Goro has heard in his life. But Ren looks back up at him, blinks, gains some coherency back as his mouth twitches, as if his face tries remembering how to function. His open mouth clothes. Ren smiles, brokenly. The gray in his eyes is dull.

“Gorooo-”

Moans start so spill forth, loud and unabashed, and then Ren starts to beg, starts to call for a name that isn’t his anymore. Cognitive Akechi- no, Goro is all to happy to comply, pure delight dancing in his red eyes as he continues to fuck Ren into submission with the monstrosity of his cock, and Akechi is left to stare at what is left broken in the process.

Akechi doesn’t feel anything. He doesn’t even feel his weak cock reacting as Goro shoves Ren’s face into Akechi’s crotch where Ren immediately starts sucking at it through the fabric, moistening what’s left of his Metaverse outfit, all while asking Akechi that he’s glad he’s finally decided to reciprocate his feeling.

“I’ll- _ahh_ , Goro, I’m so glad you look at me now- You’ve never looked at me before _, mmhm_ \- so, please-”

“You taste so good- I’ve, _nghh_ , always asked myself _how-_ how-”

 _“Ahhh,_ thank you, thank you, _tha-thank you-_ ”

“Isn’t Ren beautiful?” Goro cackles, groaning in the next second because Ren’s hole must be clenching again, milking him through another orgasm, but neither of them have ever stopped while that happened, fucking through the oversensitivity like nothing else matters.

In front of him, Ren is still trying to suck his cock like there’s no barrier between the hot cavern of his mouth and the actual skin.

“I think for all my deeds in the Metaverse, I need some kind of _reward._ Ren will be the perfect trophy, don’t you think? Just look at how he takes my cock so well, even lowering himself to pleasure lowly filth such as you.”

Akechi’s consciousness begins to slip when after an unfathomable amount of time he weakly, pathetically cums under Ren’s ministrations.

He’s distinctively aware that he’s _glad_ for everything coming to an end. 

In his last moments, Akechi sees how incredibly happy Ren looks, continuing to nuzzle his flushed face into his crotch, body quivering regularly as Goro mercilessly keeps on pounding into him.

Moaning a name that doesn't belong to him anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Technically Goro does die, but rest assured, he'll get Samarecarmed. Cognitive Akechi keeps his promise because now he's a hoe for Ren, too.
> 
> Will Goro get his revenge on his cognition and free Ren??? Or will he and maybe the Phantom Thieves fail??? 
> 
> You go decide lol I'm done with this AU
> 
> [My (mostly) Akeshu twitter!](https://twitter.com/voraciousTash)


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